


Discrepancy

by PurpleProsaist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Autistic Frodo Baggins, Autistic Sam Gamgee, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mid-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28618269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleProsaist/pseuds/PurpleProsaist
Summary: Frodo runs his fingers through Sam's curls, and suddenly he's laughing.A moment of softness in Mordor.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61





	Discrepancy

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [YamBits](/users/YamBits/) for looking this over! It might seem I didn't change anything, but actually I was super motivated to make the most necessary improvements _before_ I sent it, & that legitimately made all the difference, lol. 
> 
> Another tiny Sam/Frodo fic. Hope y'all enjoy!! 
> 
> I still can't seem to decide whether it's written obviously enough to warrant the autism headcanon tags. If I ever say I've made up my mind, no I haven't.

Frodo runs his fingers through Sam's curls, and suddenly he's laughing. 

_Laughing!_

Sam sees nothing here for anyone ever to laugh about. Not in this drear landscape, too harsh on every sense, scorched unloved earth and chafing gray rock all around. Not in this air that sits like lead at the bottom of their lungs. And especially not when Frodo hasn't expressed a bit of appetite for weeks, perhaps months, and his body's grown so scant. Nor when he seems to wake only all the wearier for his dreams, and the light is gradually fading behind those eyes. 

Sam's heart flutters, as an autumn leaf on a breeze, at the rare music of it. "What is it, Mr. Frodo?" he mumbles, tripping over his own tongue, almost slurring. Frodo's fingers keep trailing over his head in a tactile mantra. 

"Oh... I was just thinking how soft your hair is, Sam. And yet how it dares to exist in such a place as this! Why, all of you..." Frodo smiles up at him, slowly, "I need you to know that you amaze me, in every way possible." 

It's only a few words, put so plainly, and yet such a treasure beyond words themself, for it's exactly what Sam feels of _him_. Sam starts as though to say as such, but closes his mouth again, feeling far too much at once to hope of speaking. In lieu, he hides the tears that refuse to flow, safe against Frodo's neck. 

No more words are needed. Frodo holds him there, an arm soft about him, and his other hand behind Sam's head, fingertips swirling in soothing circles. Sam shifts upwards as far as he can, taking thorough care to avoid the line that's been rubbed raw by the chain. 

He could be abashed for the awkward way his nose presses to Frodo's skin. He notes it only numbly, for in another time and place he _would_ have been abashed. Now, with his poor Frodo sighing so indulgently, he can't bring himself to pay mind to anything but that beloved breath, and whatever comfort might ease it so. Here, pressed this close, he can hear the enduring warmth in Frodo's pulse, and he feels his own heart pounding in steady reply. Sam runs his hands across Frodo's back, presses him closer. He feels the laughter bubble up his own throat now, trying to escape up to the heavens, wherever they lie beyond that veil. He must keep quieter than that. He must. 

When Sam lifts his head, Frodo's mouth is on his. They're sharing breath. Then they're _kissing_. 

Kissing and _laughing_. 


End file.
